I’d rather a love that never died,
As opposed to one that always tried.
Self preservation and enjoyment, both.
To live and love, an intermingled oath.
Even those that love does not employ,
Should stay alive, to occasionally enjoy.
So it pains me, hurts me deeply, to see
Those I knew, or loved, or both… plea.
For death. Actions expediate sure demise.
It hurts enough, to yield tear-filled eyes.
Strangers too, I might never chance to meet.
They lunge to non-existence head-over-feet.
In the name of enjoyment, sensation, a lie
Laugh and joke, drink and smoke, get high.
I watch on, some grimly play. This life.
Misery around me is overwhelmingly rife.
Escapes are deadly, distorting, overtaking.
The minds of so many, all around are breaking.
How long can a man stand in sorrowful rubble?
Watching all he ever might have loved crumble.
What’s left for the man that waits sober?
When all breaks down, and life’s almost over.
What’s left for that man but that he may die too.
And in the end, then, how is he different than you?